With my last breath
by HR always live on
Summary: Another Harry and Ruth fic. Set right at the end of series ten after Sasha stabbed Ruth and going on from there.
1. Chapter 1

**This was going to be a long one shot but I've changed my mind. Now looking to be 4 or 5 chapters long. HR taken from the end of series ten.**

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Ruth's breathing was incredibly laboured and heavy. Harry had his hand on the wound which was making her lung collapse. His hand was covered in her blood, and he was desperately trying not to think about it. His other hand was cradling her face, trying to keep her with him.

"Harry…" she breathed. "We were never meant to have those things."

"Yes we were," he replied. Then he realised he'd used the past tense. "We are," he edited. "We're going to be happy after all of this."

"Oh, this hurts," she whispered. "Can you… kiss me before I go?"

"No," he said firmly. "You're not going anywhere. I forbid it, do you hear me?"

"I'm always right," she whispered. "You know that." She closed her eyes and exhaled once more, very heavily. Then she didn't breathe in again.

"Ruth, look at me!" Harry shouted. She didn't react. He distantly heard running footsteps but didn't pay it any attention until Dimitri moved him aside and injected adrenaline into her chest. It had absolutely no effect. Her eyes stayed closed and Harry let go of his emotions for the first time in his memory. He felt choked up and let the tears fall. He held her face, still warm and gently pressed his lips to hers before crying into her shoulder. In the back of his mind he was aware of a shouted conversation behind him but he couldn't care less. Ruth, his Ruth was gone. Dead. Nothing else mattered.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and refrained from hitting the intruder to his grief with difficulty. Which was good when he saw it was Dimitri. "I'm sorry Harry, the CIA want you. I can't talk them out of it."

"She's… just…" Harry said in a ragged breath. "Just been taken from me. They can go to hell." For the first time he saw the American agents standing close to Erin who was trying to keep them back.

"Harry, please go quietly," she said. "You can't help Ruth now."

"None of you understand!" Harry hissed. "This isn't just another spy. This is Ruth! And I never…" he tailed off but those who knew him understood. He'd never told her how he felt. Never held her while she was living, instead of dying. Never kissed her without the threat of a long parting hanging over them. So many never's. So many regrets, even now when the pain was raw and the grief was overwhelming.

"Mr Pearce, come with me please," an American said approaching him. How dare this CIA agent come anywhere near Ruth? Harry thought, steam almost pouring from his ears. His good and kind Ruth, too good to be trapped in Thames House for all those years.

"I need a minute," Harry said hoarsely, still with his hands on Ruth. He couldn't let her go.

"Now, Mr Pearce," the stubborn American said. Harry felt strong arms pulling him up off the ground, away from his Ruth. That was what made him snap. He was being taken away from the woman he loved more than his own life and he lashed out. He started punching the men who were trying to take him in and felt the men who were much better (physically) trained, younger and fitter fight back. Each blow that landed on him felt like a dull pain. To almost counter the aching and empty hole in his heart now that she'd gone. He fought until he felt his hands being cuffed behind his back and he fell to the ground in an undignified heap, his heart broken and his body bruised. He was half carried, half dragged to the waiting land rover. He had two guards on either side of him but he had neither the energy or the inclination to fight any more. All he wanted was to turn back the clock and tell the love of his life how much he loved her. Something which he would now never get the chance to do. He closed his eyes and allowed the feeling of total loss to envelope him.

What Harry didn't know was that Ruth Evershed, lying still in the grass had gasped for a single breath. Erin was the only person still with her as the helicopter landed, but she heard the sound. She leaned over Ruth and felt her pulse. It was there. "Oh my God," Erin breathed. "How is that possible?" She didn't get an answer, instead the paramedics pushed her away and began working in earnest, bringing Ruth back. It worked. Her eyes flicked open before an oxygen mask covered most of her face. Erin saw this and smiled. Clearly Ruth Evershed was made of stronger stuff than they'd imagined.

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**Medically impossible but I don't think anyone will mind! Leave a review if you liked or hated it. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Thanks for all the enthusiasm guys. Here's part two...**

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Harry was curled up in his cell, for want of a better word. He'd been in Washington for four weeks now, and he knew his interrogators were getting bored. They knew they weren't getting much information out of him and it was irritating them no end. Harry was pretty certain he hadn't given anything away, and oddly, it was Ruth's death which had made him that steadfast. He couldn't focus on anything but the gnawing pain and overwhelming grief of her loss. Everything else seemed rather pointless, so he didn't feel the need to answer their inane questions. He knew he was being blamed for Jim Coaver's death, and that his silence wasn't helping but he didn't care. He felt like he'd be trapped in a prison for the rest of his life without his Ruth anyway, so what did it matter?

She'd be buried by now, he thought. He hadn't been able to go to her funeral. He hadn't been able to see her final resting place, and if they charged him with Jim Coaver's death, he might never see it. He might never be able to buy flowers to rest on her grave. Freesia, not roses or anything else, because she'd mentioned to Jo in passing years ago that white freesia's were her favourite flowers. But he couldn't buy her flowers. He was trapped in the depths of America, with very little prospect of going home.

Harry was brought out of his depressive musings by the door opening, and he sat up on his bed, waiting for the intruder to say something. "Please follow me." Harry got up, knowing from experience (and a couple of bruised ribs) that staying put when asked to move was a bad idea. He followed the man, and as he left his cell, he realised that there were two guards following behind him as well. Harry sighed internally but didn't do anything other than follow his feet.

Soon enough he was sitting in his horribly familiar interrogation room, two CIA agents already waiting for him. Harry sat down without preamble and stared at his hands, waiting for today's round of questioning to begin.

"We want to ask you about your senior intelligence analyst," CIA man number one said.

"I don't talk about her," Harry said in a low voice. He was now gripping his hands into fists to refrain from punching anything. That would get him nowhere.

"What happened?" CIA number two asked.

"She's d…" his voice broke and he took a deep breath before trying again. "She's dead. Gone. Nothing more to say." Do not cry, he thought to himself. You cannot show weakness in front of these people, so do not cry.

"How did she die?" CIA one asked CIA two.

"Stabbed by an FSB agent. Collapsed lung compromised her breathing and she slipped into unconsciousness. Couldn't be revived," the man replied, so matter of fact that Harry moaned, low in his throat. He didn't even realise that noise came from him, because he was back on the grass, holding her body as she slipped away from him. In his mind he was watching her go over and over again, even though he was now thousands of miles away from her grave. God he wanted to see her so badly. He wanted to hold her but it was an impossibility. CIA men one and two both seemed to recognise that Harry was slowly falling apart and said nothing as Harry covered his face with his hands, trying to focus on the current situation.

The minutes drew longer and still no one spoke. This seemed odd to Harry so he looked at both his questioners. "Sign this."

"What is it?" Harry asked looking at the proffered form.

"An order to send you back to London," the first CIA man said. "You can go home."

"Just like that?" Harry asked bewildered. He couldn't believe this. Surely they weren't simply going to let him go. He picked up the form and scanned it but he had been speaking the truth. It was a flight order for him between Baltimore Washington International and Heathrow airport. Harry wanted to sign it but this seemed too easy. "What's the catch?"

"The culprit behind James Coaver's demise has admitted the crime. We have no further reason to hold you. Just sign it so we can move on."

Harry reread it and lifted the pen, but before he did he had to ask. "So who killed him?"  
"That's confidential information to the United States government."

Harry shrugged. He should have known he'd get that answer. Then he signed the form, unable to believe he'd be going back to London.

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**Something from Ruth's pov next. Please leave a review if you have a minute. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, thanks for all the reviews for chapter 2 everyone! Really means a lot to me that people are enjoying this. For Ruth's perspective we're going back in time a bit, so Harry is still in Washington being interrogated. Hope its not too confusing.**

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**Two weeks earlier.**

Ruth felt like she was burning up. Her chest and her throat felt like they were on fire. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was lying on the cold ground as she lost consciousness, Harry's arms around her as her eyes closed. As this memory occurred to her, she realised her eyes were still closed. With a force of effort she managed to open them and realised she was in a hospital bed. The beeping of machines to her left confirmed that and she wondered how long she'd been unconscious for. There was a clock on the wall which read eleven o'clock but she had no idea if it was morning or evening as her room didn't have a window.

As she looked around her room slowly, she realised there was no sign that anyone had been to see her. No get well soon cards, no flowers, nor (and she felt slightly foolish for hoping it) a jacket draped over the chair that he might have left there while he had left her alone for some reason. She felt disappointed that Harry wasn't here to see her. Had he only been saying those wonderful things because he thought she was dying? That was not a positive thought so she pushed it from her mind forcibly. Slowly she checked her body and found that everything seemed to be in working order. Except for the fact that breathing seemed difficult and her chest hurt. She was about to push the call button, to get a nurse to tell her more when the door swung inwards. Please be Harry, she thought. But she was disappointed when a blonde woman came in wearing a doctors coat.

"Oh good, you're awake," she said, putting her clipboard down.

"How long was I out?" Ruth asked, shocked to hear how cracked and croaky her voice sounded.

"Its been about two weeks," the doctor said and Ruth sighed.

"What happened?" Ruth asked weakly.

"You've been having real problems breathing," the doctor said. "I'm pleased you're awake. Once you came in, we had to rush you to surgery because you kept slipping out of consciousness due to your stab wound. We had to remove about half of your left lung."

"Oh my God," Ruth said sitting up. "Am I going to be alright?"

"Yes," the doctor said in a strangely reassuring voice. "We kept trying to put a patch over the hole on your lung but it wouldn't hold. Your heart was struggling to cope under the anaesthesia for so long, so we had to do something drastic or we'd have lost you. Now that you're awake, you should recover just fine."

"Good," Ruth said. "That's good. Has anyone been to see me?"

"You've had a couple of visitors," the doctor said kindly, but Ruth could see through the words. Harry hadn't been here. Because if he had been worried about her, she was sure he would have made himself unforgettable to the hospital staff. Why hadn't he visited? Surely she hadn't imagined everything between them. No, she knew she hadn't. And the look on his face when she'd asked him to leave the service with her… well, that couldn't be faked and even through two weeks of a hospital stay, the memory warmed her. She looked around the room and saw the phone.

"Can I?"

"Of course," the doctor said. "I want to do a couple of quick checks but then I'll leave you in peace." Ruth subjected with good grace to her examination and was happy when the door closed. She picked up the phone and called through to the grid. Slightly pleased that she'd memorised the number and the security codes she called through to Harry's office, hoping he'd pick up.

"Yeah?"

"Oh Erin, its Ruth," she said, slightly confused about why Erin had picked up Harry's phone.

"Oh my God Ruth!" she said loudly. "Look, I'll be right there. I'm so pleased you're awake. I'll get a taxi right over to the hospital. See you in a minute." This was all said in such a rush that Ruth barely had time to respond before the line went dead. Ruth put the phone down and felt her eyes drifting closed with the promise of answers to come.

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It seemed like only five minutes later Erin was there, standing over her bed as she opened her eyes. "I'm so glad you're awake," the younger officer said.

"Not that I don't appreciate you being here," Ruth said, sitting up slightly awkwardly. "But where's Harry?"

Erin smiled sadly. "He's in Washington. As soon as you slipped away CIA agents took him to America. He had no choice."

"Oh God, poor Harry," she said before she could stop herself. Her heart ached for him profusely and she now realised why there were no flowers or cards waiting for her when she woke up. "What are they doing to him," she said under her breath. "Does he know I'm alive?" Ruth asked as the thought occurred to her.

"No," Erin said firmly. "We didn't want to give the Americans more information than necessary and we didn't want them to have anything to hold over him either. There was no way to tell him without letting the CIA know. Plus you were in danger for a while. We didn't know if you were going to wake up."

"He thinks I'm dead?" Ruth asked in a quiet voice. "Oh poor Harry." Her heart ached for him. For his presence, his company and his love. "When's he coming home?" she asked brushing away the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"He probably won't," Erin said sadly. She sat by Ruth's bed and held her hand tightly. "He's being blamed for Coaver's death. He won't get out of it. He'll end up in prison. I'm so sorry."

Ruth made a heartbroken noise she didn't even know she was capable of making before curling up on her side, silently crying. A British spy in a US prison for the rest of his life, God knows what would happen to him. He would never get out of there alive. Ruth cried for a full ten minutes while Erin sat awkwardly by her bedside. Erin knew she couldn't leave but watching Ruth break her heart was devastating. What Erin didn't realise that was Ruth wasn't just crying, she was thinking about all the possibilities.

"Erin, who knows I'm alive?" she asked suddenly.

"Er, just myself Dimitri and Cal," Erin said blankly. "We didn't want to broadcast it in case…"

"I didn't make it, yeah," Ruth agreed quickly. "So the FSB and the CIA think I'm dead?"

"The FSB don't care. They're more concerned with the fact that Ilya murdered his wife on British soil and trying to cover it up. You're not important to them. And I haven't been in a mood to share information with the Americans," Erin added darkly.

"So as far as they know, I died on the grass from Sasha's stab wound?" Ruth asked.

"Yes," Erin said, frowning slightly. Then crystal clear realisation ran through her mind. "No, you can't," she said. "Harry wouldn't want you to…"

"If I don't do this, I'll never see him again. I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I'd died instead. So get me a computer."

"Ruth, you can't do this," Erin repeated. "You can't take the blame for something you didn't do. Jim Coaver's death was not your fault."

"It wasn't Harry's fault either," Ruth said. "I was leaving the service anyway. No one will miss me if I pretend to be dead. I've done this for him once before, I have no hesitation pretending to be dead again." She fell silent as both women stared at each other. For the first time Erin appreciated why the iron willed, never compromised on operation, immovable head of section D had fallen in love with this quiet and intelligent woman. After a moment of steel eyed glare between the two of them Ruth continued. "So get me a laptop and let me forge the documents I need to."

"He'll be furious at me letting you do this," Erin warned.

"He won't be furious at you," Ruth said. "He knows me well enough to know that I won't be stopped once I set my mind to something. Get me a computer."

"Fine," Erin said. "I'm glad to know a two week stint unconscious hasn't changed your personality. I'll be back in an hour."

"Thank you," Ruth said, smiling. For some reason, now that she had a plan, she felt much happier. She decided to get more sleep before Erin returned. She was going to need it.

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**Well done to those who guessed who would take the blame for Jim Coaver. Hope you liked this bit. More soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I feel like I've let go of the plot a little bit here, but I struggled writing Harry in this chapter, so I hope its alright.**

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The plane was taxiing at Heathrow airport and Harry allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. He was back home, and whatever the circumstances, that was infinitely better than being locked up in America. Even if Ruth was gone. Even to himself he couldn't think of the words dead and Ruth in the same sentence. True as it was. He had a grave to visit. It was one of the first things he had to do, otherwise he'd never forgive himself. But every time he thought of the cemetery he'd have to visit he felt like giving up and collapsing completely. It was all he could do just to stay sitting on that plane. Once he'd seen Ruth's final resting place he didn't know what he'd do. It seemed like that was the only thing he was holding on for.

He wouldn't go back to work now. He couldn't contemplate being in that building any longer. Thames House had so many memories of Ruth that he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on work. Which, sooner or later would result in a mistake of massive (and most likely explosive) proportions, and that was another thing that he simply couldn't cope with on top of everything else. So Harry's MI5 career was over. And he didn't care one bit.

He'd give up everything he had to see Ruth one last time. To hold her and tell her that he loved her more than anything in this world. Something he would now never get the chance to do. His beautiful, elegant, quietly intelligent Ruth. The way her hair caught in the dim light of the grid, like a halo around her head. The blue of her eyes which sparkled a little more whenever she had laid eyes on him. So bright and lively, in spite of her quiet appearance.

"Sir?" Harry turned to the air stewardess who was watching him kindly. "If you wouldn't mind vacating the plane." Harry looked around and realised that the aeroplane had completely emptied while he'd been lost in thoughts and memories of Ruth.

"Sorry," he said, forcing a slight smile. "I was miles away." He got up and rubbed his eyes before moving through the empty aircraft and leaving.

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As he walked through the airport he was surprised to see someone waiting for him. "Its been quite a while since I had a reception waiting for me at an airport," Harry said quietly.

"Its good to see you back on British soil," Erin said with half a smile.

"Mm," he agreed half heartedly, walking through the airport. They were both silent until they got to the car, knowing that airports weren't the safest place to talk without being overheard or spied on. Once Erin started to drive Harry voiced the first thing on his mind.

"Where's she buried?" Erin sighed. "I need to see her. I have to. I missed her funeral, I have to go to her. Please tell me where she is."

"Harry, I need you to stay calm," Erin said as she continued to drive.

"I haven't been calm in four weeks, two days and sixteen hours," he said. He looked at his hands and took a shaky breath, forcing the tears back before he spoke again. "Which cemetery? Come on Erin its not that hard."

"She isn't dead," Erin said slowly. It took a moment for that to sink in.

"Of course she is," Harry said in a flat voice. "She… died… in my arms. Her eyes closed and she stopped breathing. She's gone."

"When the CIA took you, she gasped for breath once more and the paramedics got to work on her. She's alive Harry." He stayed silent for a full minute as he absorbed those words.

"But… how?" Harry said quietly, still unable to believe it. Unable to take it in. He'd spent a month remembering her dying in his arms. He couldn't simply accept that she was living.

"She came out of unconsciousness a couple of weeks ago. To be honest before that it was touch and go whether she'd make it, so I didn't tell anyone she was still alive," Erin said. "I most especially didn't want to tell you and get your hopes up because it wasn't certain she would pull through. And then she did something stupid when she woke up," Erin said with heat.

"What?" Harry asked curiously in spite of himself. He still couldn't believe she was alive.

"You weren't coming home," Erin said slowly. "And when I told her you'd probably end up in prison for the rest of your life, she fell apart. I couldn't stop her Harry, I tried to reason with her. She took the blame for Coaver's death."

"What!" Harry shouted. "She did what? Tell me you're joking."

"So you believe me when I tell you that Ruth's alive?" Erin asked with a small smile.

"Well its better than the alternative," Harry said. "Is she… really?"

"Yes," Erin said. In spite of the situation Harry felt warm relief fill his mind. It seemed impossible, but he also knew Erin wouldn't have told him if she wasn't 100% sure.

"Why did Ruth do that?" Harry asked.

"Because the stupid woman is in love with you Harry. God knows why," Erin said shaking her head. "She's pretending to be dead so that you both can escape prison."

"Where is she?" Harry asked keeping a tight lid on his emotions.

"I don't know if I can tell you," Erin said. "You'll be watched for a while, you know that."

"I won't endanger her," Harry said. "I would never do that. Please tell me."

"Make sure you aren't being watched before you find her," Erin said. "Please."

"Of course I will," Harry said. "I'm not entirely stupid."

"Okay," Erin said. She reached inside her jacket pocket and handed Harry a tiny piece of paper. "Burn that when you have it memorised," she said.

Harry read it, surprised to see the address was in the UK. Not that he minded exactly. It would make her easier to find. He got a lighter from the glove compartment and quickly burnt it, the remains curling on the dashboard. When they ashes were cold, he crushed them in his hand and threw them out of the window, a little bit at a time. Then he thought of Ruth, and he cried. He let his emotions go and he cried more than he had in years. Ruth, his Ruth was alive. All he had to do now was wait until he was no longer being watched. And he didn't care how long it took, he would find her. He barely noticed that Erin had stopped the car until long minutes later he brushed his tears aside and looked around. They were at a cemetery.

"For appearances sake," Erin said with a smile. "Someone will be watching. There's flowers in the boot."

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. Seeing her grave, even if it was empty was not going to be easy. "What flowers did you get?"

"White roses," Erin said.

"She wouldn't like roses," Harry said. "She'd want something less obvious."

"Well it's a good thing she isn't actually buried there then isn't it?" Erin smiled tightly. "I'll wait here." Harry took a shaky breath before opening the car door. This was not going to be easy.

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**I think there is one chapter left. Thanks for the reviews so far, and I hope this chapter wasn't too bad.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the last chapter, which actually inspired the story. Thanks to everyone for reading and especially reviewing.**

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**24th December 2011**

Harry drove carefully through the ice and the light snow. He parked at one end of the village, a typical English picture perfect village. Erin had been right, he had been being watched, but they were low level CIA, and they lost interest after a week or two. It seemed that he wasn't important, which was perfectly fine with him. He had made sure that he was left alone before daring to find Ruth. As much as he longed to see her and ached to hold her, he wouldn't dare to put her in danger. But now he was safe. So he was here to see her. Locking the car, he wrapped his scarf and jacket around him because it was very cold.

He walked through the small lanes, approaching her house from a distance. He could have parked in her driveway, but Harry was rather looking forward to surprising her. So he'd parked at the other end of the village and was slowly walking to her house. Ruth had bought a cottage away from most other houses and Harry looked around as he approached it. It truly was a beautiful place, even though everything was covered in white frost and a little snow. He felt nervous. He was going to see Ruth for the first time since he'd agreed to leave the service with her. Since he thought she'd died in his arms. He was actually going to see her. Walking up the driveway, his footsteps were muffled by the snow, but he paused when he heard someone behind him. He turned, fear colouring his mind but then he almost laughed with what he saw. An elderly man with a walking stick, walking his spaniel down the lane. Harry waited until he was out of sight before returning and walking to Ruth's front door.

A string of clear Christmas lights were in the window and he knocked on the door, taking a deep breath. There was a simple wreath on the door and he heard footsteps inside. He braced himself for her appearance, but he still wasn't ready when the door swung open. His eyes were drawn down as a black cat immediately ran out of the house. "Oh Frostie," Ruth said in an exasperated tone as she watched the black dash vanish around the house. Then her eyes flicked upwards to her visitors face and she froze. Their eyes locked and neither could move an inch. And then she smiled. "Oh God, Harry," she breathed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You're here."

"I am," he said, voice breaking as his own hazel eyes swam with emotion. Then he reached for her slowly. When his hand touched hers she jumped back from the contact, surprised.

"Sorry," she said instantly. "I just can't believe you're here." She reached back for his hand and grasped him tightly, their fingers lacing together.

"Don't you ever make me think you've died," Harry said firmly. "I couldn't bear it all over again."

"I'll do my best." He put his palm on her cheek, feeling her warm skin under his fingers. He smiled at her and she tilted her head up slightly, invitingly. He got the point and leaned in very slowly and set his lips on hers. Ruth smiled into his kiss as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close against his. His kiss started soft, gentle and completely wonderful. Then it quickly changed into a knee weakening, passionate, all consuming kiss. His fingers were in her hair when he realised she was suddenly pushing his chest away from her. He stopped, confused and a little hurt.

"I couldn't breathe," she said smiling at him. "I'm not used to my lung yet." Harry looked at her in concern as her heavy breathing subsided.

"Erin didn't fill me in with the details," Harry said. "What happened?"

"Come in," Ruth said. "I'm cold and I don't want to discuss this on the doorstep."

"Thought you'd never ask," he said with a smile. He kissed her briefly once more before gripping her hand and following her over the doorstep. Ruth was about to close the door when the cat dashed back in, now more white than black.

"I had to have a cat," Ruth said apologetically as they went through to the living room and sat on the sofa. "I was lonely. So lonely, I knew you'd find me eventually." Harry looked at her and couldn't help kissing her once more.

"I'm so angry at you for taking the blame for Coaver's death," he said.

"I know," she replied with a smile. "But I wanted a chance of life after MI5. With you."

"You meant that then?" he said hopefully.

"Of course I did," she said, smiling at him. "I had to give up my house in Sussex, far too obvious if I moved in there, but I like this house too. Erin helped me."

"So medically, how are you?" he asked, holding her hand tightly.

"Half of my left lung has been removed," she said. "But I am fine," she added at the worried look on his face. I just get a little breathless at times."

"Like during that kiss?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow and she blushed.

"Well, that's the first time I've experimented with that theory, but I suppose so."

"Are you really alright?" he asked seriously.

"Yes," she said. "I've been checked over and I'm fine, I promise." She smiled at him as the cat came in and sat by the fire as if he owned the place.

"Oh, God I'm so glad," Harry said. He kissed her again briefly before drawing back. "I meant to tell you something. I should have said it ages and ages ago."

"Don't," she said, smiling. "I don't want you to say anything sudden now that you've seen me again."

"Its not sudden," Harry said. "I would have never forgiven myself if I'd never told you. And now I have a chance."

"Harry…"

"Ruth, I love you," he said eyes glowing. She felt both her breath and her heart catch.

"I know," Ruth replied. "You don't always show it, but I did know. And for the record, I love you too." He reached for her and kissed her passionately, pushing her into the sofa as he hovered over her. She pulled him close as he continued to kiss her spectacularly, tasting her sweetness and holding in his groan with difficulty.

"Shall we… go upstairs?" Ruth asked, her cheeks red.

"Isn't it a little soon?" he asked, surprised at her forwardness.

"Actually, I think its about five years too late," she said, smiling at him. She stroked his hair softly and he nodded once.

"If you're sure," he said slowly.

"Its Christmas," she said with a smile. "And I've never been surer. If you want to?"

"God Ruth," he groaned. "What are you doing to me?"

"Is that a yes?" Ruth asked, biting her lip.

"Are you well enough?"

"I didn't ask my doctor, but yes," she said with a laugh. "I have a scar," she added apologetically, her hand on her ribs.

"I've got my fair share of those too," Harry said. Ruth smiled and got up from the sofa, holding Harry's hand tightly. "In so glad I'm here," Harry said sincerely. Ruth's eyes flicked upwards and Harry got the point immediately. He stood up and she followed suit, their hands holding each others tightly. Ruth reached up and brushed her lips over his briefly. Then she pulled his hand and led him up the stairs.

* * *

Ruth ached everywhere, but it was a very good, pleasurable ache. When she found the energy to open her eyes she saw Harry staring at her with what could only be described as a satisfied smile. "No need to look quite so pleased with yourself," Ruth said.

"Ruth, I thought you were dead," he said slowly, stroking her hair. "I would have given anything in the world to see you again. And somehow, miraculously, I found out that you survived. So forgive me if I'm incredibly happy."

"Well, when you put it like that," she said with a grin. "Have you left MI5?"

"I couldn't stay if you weren't there," Harry said seriously. "Especially when you offered a life for us together. Do you still want that?"

"Of course I do," Ruth said. "I always think things through properly. And I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't sure."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Harry said with a smile that reached his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, I can't resist you when you look at me like that," Ruth said quickly.

"Oh, I wish I'd known," Harry said. "I'd have given you that look years ago." Ruth smiled and allowed herself to be scooped against his chest and their arms tangled together. And she had never felt happier. It might have taken lies, spying, years of longing and separation, but they had found each other in the end. That was what counted.

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**The end.**

**I could be persuaded to write an M rated bit if anyone wants it. Let me know. Thanks for reading and a final review would mean the world to me.**


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